


1963

by Gerec



Category: Captain America (Movies), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brief mention of the camps, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, M/M, Post X-Men: First Class, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, references to wwii
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is rescued from the ice in 1963, and has to learn to live in a world where Peggy is married and the war is decades gone. To help his transition S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Moira MacTaggert introduces him to one Professor Charles Xavier, and the two find themselves bonding over shared grief and lost love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1963

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kernezelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kernezelda/gifts).



> OP - I deviated from your amazing prompt, for reasons I'll be happy to share with you after author reveals! Just know that I Ioved your idea very much, and I do hope that you enjoy my interpretation of your prompt! :D

 

_'Love is so short, forgetting is so long.' - Pablo Neruda_

 

The world is markedly different and yet surprisingly the same, when Steve Rogers wakes from his slumber in the ice on a warm June morning.

In 1945 America was still at war, Truman was in power and no one had ever heard of an atomic bomb. Now in the latter half of 1963, it appears that America is _still_ at war, though more over an ideology than a mad man’s reign of terror.

To Steve, the two are as incongruous as night and day.

His reunion with Peggy and Howard made the transition a little easier than it otherwise could have been, had Steve been discovered decades later, or by other ‘interested’ parties. But even here he finds himself oddly out of sync with the lives they’ve built after the War, with Peggy’s marriage and two children effectively closing a chapter to his life that had barely even started.

And Bucky – Bucky was still dead.

Most nights, Steve goes to bed with the notion that it might have been better if he’d stayed in the ice. The world has no need for Captain America, and Steve Rogers doesn’t have anything to fight for.

 

x

 

One of the agents approaches him at the gym, her determined stance reminding Steve of Peggy when they first met. She waits until he stops swinging at the punching bag to take a long drink of water, and then takes a step closer to catch his attention.

“Captain Rogers? I’m Moira MacTaggert of Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Director Carter sent me to meet with you.”

The comment stings a little more than it should, to be sent a handler instead of Peggy coming to speak to him herself. Though he can hardly blame her for being busy when she has an entire agency to run these days, and for not coddling him when he had been the one to ask for some time and space.

“Agent MacTaggert,” he answers, perhaps overly polite, pulling the boxing gloves off his hands and flexing his knuckles. “What can I do for you?”

The woman’s smile is kind but discerning, as though she recognizes and understands his wariness over her unexpected appearance.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but Director Carter and Mr. Stark asked me to assist with your re-integration efforts. I’m here to take you to an appointment.”

“I don’t need to see a doctor, Agent MacTaggert. I’m perfectly fine.”

“I know, Captain. I’m not here to take you to an examination. I’m actually here to take you to see a friend of mine…someone with special abilities, like you, that you might be interested in meeting.”

Steve stares at her, uncertain what to make of her assertion. “Someone with special abilities. Someone like _me_?”

She chuckles, before handing him a picture of an attractive young man around Steve’s age, with brown hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Not _exactly_ like you, Captain, but you’ll see for yourself when you meet him.”

He gives her a cautious smile, his curiosity piqued, and hands her back the photo. “Who is he?”

“Charles Xavier,” she answers, and her smile turns softer, and much more genuine. “Shall we go?”

\-----

He doesn’t know what to expect at this meeting, and what little MacTaggert shares with him on the way to Westchester ill prepares him for his actual encounter with Dr. Xavier. The fact that the man has multiple PhDs at his young age is a little intimidating, and pulling up to the veritable castle where he lives is a bit like walking into a fairy tale.

Xavier himself seems perfectly charming and affable when they meet, guiding his wheelchair with ease down the ramp from the front door. He greets Moira with undisguised warmth and a kiss on the cheek, before turning to Steve and offering his hand in welcome. “Captain Rogers, welcome to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. Would you like a tour of the grounds?”

“Yes, thank you,” Steve answers, returning the intent gaze being leveled his way by a pair of sharp blue eyes. Even without MacTaggert’s briefing Steve would know not to underestimate the man in front of him, wearing his good humor and expensive navy three piece like a suit of armor. “And then I’d very much like to know the real reason I’m here.”

Xavier looks pleased rather than offended by his blunt response. “Of course, Captain. Follow me.”

\-----

“Do you know Peggy—Director Carter well, Dr. Xavier?”

They are sitting in what he believes to be Xavier’s personal study, the two sharing a cup of Earl Grey after a long, meandering tour of the School and grounds. Agent MacTaggert left them early in their wanderings around the property, apparently quite eager to reconnect with some of the so far unseen staff in the large and well equipped facility.

From what Steve can tell, the entirety of Xavier’s mansion seems nothing more than an elite and well-funded prep school, with not nearly enough students to justify the size and the associated cost. So Xavier is either exceedingly wealthy, funding everything with his own money for some unspecified reason, or there’s more to the School than meets the eye.

Somehow, Steve gets the sense that it’s a little of both.

“Please call me ‘Charles’, or ‘Professor’ if you prefer, Captain,” Xavier answers, smile still serene if a little too knowing for having just met Steve an hour ago. “And the answer is not well at all; I’ve only spoken with the Director on the phone once. My dealings with S.H.I.E.L.D. are handled exclusively through Moira.”

“And you and Agent MacTaggert are friends.”

“Indeed she’s a very good friend,” he says, and for the first time, Xavier’s expression shifts, something akin to sorrow, or regret, marring his handsome features. “I am glad to have Moira still. And the others.”

He doesn’t offer anything more and Steve doesn’t ask; he knows what it means to carry things – things that steal your breath like a punch to the gut - that can’t be clearly expressed nor easily explained. It’s nothing he cares to share with a complete stranger (though perhaps it would be easier than sharing them with Peggy, or even Howard) and he has no interest in prying into someone else’s affairs. And so they sit in a considering silence and enjoy their tea, and do not speak.

\-----

“Will you come back for another visit, Captain?” Xavier asks, his palm steady and warm as he shakes Steve’s hand. Surprisingly, he’s enjoyed the afternoon in the Professor’s company; appreciated that the man asked him no questions about his physical transformation or for stories about the War.

For the first time in a long time, he’s ‘Steve Rogers’ first and not ‘Captain America’, and it’s not such a bad feeling at all.

“Call me Steve,” he says, and tries to convey his appreciation with a sincere smile. “And I think I might take you up on that offer sometime.”

 

x

 

‘Sometime’ is about a month later, and Steve makes the trip to Westchester alone, on the back of his new Harley. If Xavier is surprised to see him, he doesn’t let on, welcoming Steve as before with the same warmth and easy grace.

There is more tea, and conversation about the school, and Charles introducing him to music by a ‘Ray Charles’ and an ‘Elvis Presley’ before Steve broaches the subject left unaddressed from his first visit.

“Agent MacTaggert implied that you were…special. Like me,” Steve admits, as they wander through the gardens, enjoying the lovely weather on a late September afternoon.

Xavier brings his chair to a stop, chuckling as he gazes up at Steve with clear amusement. “I would say that even before my accident, Captain, I was nowhere close to being ‘like you’.”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean--”

 _I think Moira was referring to this,_ a voice says – Xavier’s voice – in his head, with the same crisp accent and barely suppressed glee, _that I have a special ‘gift’, like you, that makes me…different. Unique._

“That’s…” Steve has seen a lot of frankly bizarre and unexplainable things during the war, but the idea that someone could communicate with their mind, speak without any words is “…fascinating. Is that…is there more? What else can you do? Are there others with your abilities?”

Xavier smiles, soft and revealing, and perhaps the first truly genuine one he’s given to Steve since they met. “Come with me, Captain,” he says, as he starts rolling back towards the mansion, “there are some people I’d like you to meet.”

\-----

Slowly, over the course of many more visits, Steve finds himself slotting easily into the daily life at the Xavier Institute; more so than his time spent at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, where everyone he meets treats him with a distant reverence reserved for newly resurrected war heroes. He didn’t sign up with the Army for _this_ – to be seen as more symbol than person; didn’t take the serum to be _better_ than everyone else in a fight. He did it, simply so that he _could_.

He spends much of his time with Charles catching up on the last twenty years – mostly politics and societal change and world news, the lively discussion and his joking manner preferable to reading the dry debriefing documents provided by S.H.I.E.L.D. The rest of his ‘reintegration’ is handled by Charles’ young associates, who take it upon themselves to introduce new things (movies and foods and the wonders of color television) each time he visits.

And gradually, he finds himself sharing more and more with Charles during their walks on the estate grounds, or over late nights sharing a bottle of Scotch. For the first time since he woke up all those weeks ago, he wants to _talk_ ; wants to staunch the bleeding in his heart and mend the wounds in his soul, and learn how to live again, without the people he loves most by his side.

As it turns out, so does Charles Xavier.

\-----

“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have saved him.”

“I know. Doesn’t make it better.”

\-----

“Sometimes, I hear the door, and I think it’s her, and she’s come home. But it never is. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. The idea that she’s not coming home.”

“Some things, you don’t ever get used to I guess.”

\-----

“Are you still angry? At what he did? That he…left you?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. Mostly I’m angry at myself, for thinking that I understood. That I could make him see. That I couldn’t…be what he wanted me to be.”

\-----

“You love her still. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad she moved on. More than anything, I wanted her to be happy. And I couldn’t…she deserves to be happy.”

\-----

“I don’t know how to do this…any of this. I’ve always had…even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.”

\-----

“Erik is… _was_ … We were going to change the world. Together.”

 

x

  
And then there’s the time the students and teachers spend the evening sleeping outside under the stars, leaving the mansion vacant except for Steve and their headmaster. The conversation turns inexplicably to the physical changes to Steve’s body after ingesting the serum, leading the two to a friendly drinking contest designed to test Charles’ Oxford-honed skills against Steve’s chemically enhanced tolerance.

It also leads to a shirtless Steve standing in the middle of Charles’ study, laughing as the man insists on personally checking the veracity of his ‘Captain America’ physique. For science.

They’re into the third bottle of wine when a decidedly tipsy Charles leans closer to grab his arm and asks, voice earnest, “What would you say to Bucky? If he was here, right now? What do you think he would say to you?”

He thinks about his answer for a few minutes. “I don’t really know. Probably ‘I’m sorry’, for not being able to save him when it mattered the most. ‘I miss you’, and ‘what the fuck am I supposed to do now?’”

Charles squeezes his hand encouragingly, and smiles. “He’d tell you to do what you’ve always done. Fight for what you believe in. Fight for those who can’t defend themselves.”

“What about you?” he asks gently, watching as Charles’ face crumples, before it smooths over to something much more placid and neutral. “What would you say to Erik, if you saw him again?”

Charles takes another sip of his wine, staring into the fireplace as he considers his answer. They sit for a long time in silence, before Charles turns to look at Steve, and gives him a wan smile.

“I don’t know,” he admits with a sigh. “Maybe…’come home’.”

 

x

 

Moira hands him a plain file folder one day, face drawn and tired.

“You need to read this, before you see Charles,” she says, and there is pain edged in her tone, and the kind of weariness that Steve still feels getting up every single morning. “Director Carter is sending you on your first mission. You have 24 hours Captain, before you move out.”

He flips the folder open to the first page, and glances at the photograph inside. An attractive man, in his late twenties with brown hair and blue eyes looks back at him, sporting a brown leather jacket and a grim expression. Moira waits as he skims the notes in the briefing summary, eyes unseeing as she stares at the metal wall behind his head.

“It says here I liberated his camp during the war,” Steve murmurs, his mind racing through raw memories of gaunt faces and dead bodies tossed carelessly on the ground. “So young…what did he do? What do you want _me_ to do?”

Moira sighs. “He’s dangerous. A mutant with incredible powers over metal that gives him the ability to control conventional weapons. We think he’s planning to attack a research facility in Arizona and we need you to stop him.”

“Why is he attacking a research facility? Is there something there that he wants?” He hopes with every fiber of his being that it’s not another fucking blue orb of mass destruction.

“No…he wants to shut it down.”

Steve eyes her suspiciously, though to her credit, Moira doesn’t waver under his scrutiny. “Why? Why does he want to shut it down? What are they doing there?”

“From what S.H.I.E.L.D. has gathered to date; live subject experimentation on people with mutations. People who have been illegally detained.”

The roar in his ears drowns everything out, the scent of pine fresh floors and stale air replaced by the stench of burned and rotting bodies. He looks at the face in the photograph again, and asks, words barely above a whisper, “I hope you’re not asking me to stop him from shutting it down, Agent MacTaggert. I hope you’re not asking me to arrest this man for doing what I would do – _will_ do – myself?”

Moira shakes her head, and then uncharacteristically, reaches to squeeze his arm lightly before dropping her hand. “No, we don’t want you to arrest him, Captain, we want you to save him. You’re the only one who can.”

\-----

Two hours later he is sitting in Charles’ study, watching him sift through the contents of the file folder on his lap. He looks defeated, his forehead creasing deeper with every word he reads, until he finally closes the folder with a sigh and hands it back to Steve.

“Thank you,” he says, “I appreciate you letting me know that this is happening.”

Perhaps Steve expected a stronger, or more heated reaction, with what he knows – and has guessed - about Charles’ relationship with Erik Lehnsherr. He must look surprised, or Charles picks it up from his thoughts because the man laughs, and it’s a bitter, harsh thing that sounds alien coming from someone usually so friendly and warm.

“Don’t mistake my lack of surprise as lack of feeling. It’s only that I’ve been expecting this since Erik and I parted ways. I’ve always known that the government would come after us again someday, even if I did all I could to erase our tracks…and Erik’s.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve offers, but Charles simply waves his apology away. “Peggy wants to shut it down, along with one in Nevada, and two Russian ones in Leipzig and Volgograd. The U.S. facilities aren’t government run but they _are_ government funded, so if we let Lehnsherr attack and there are any deaths the CIA will get involved and go after him with everything they’ve got.”

Charles snorts. “But if S.H.I.E.L.D. does it, the attack will simply get mired in red tape, and the investigation gets stalled and then swept under the rug. It’s an act of terrorism if a mutant tries to free others like him, but a perfectly legitimate military operation if the government frees the very same people they experimented on in the first place. And the ones responsible will simply get away with it.”

He can feel Charles’ anger seeping slowly into the air all around him, the air thick and heavy like the onset of a storm. There’s a part of him that wonders just how powerful Charles Xavier really is, and how much – or how little – he’s really seen of his capabilities. For all of Steve’s super strength and stamina courtesy of the serum, it’s still no match for what Charles can do with a mere thought and a simple command.

As terrible as the falling out with Erik must have been for his friend, Steve is infinitely relieved that Charles doesn’t share Lehnsherr’s views of mutant superiority or agree with his methods.

“I’m a soldier,” he answers, reaching to take Charles’ hand in his own. “I only know it’s my job to protect and defend. If I can do this, go there and shut these places down and get the people out then that’s my priority. As for the scientists…there aren’t a lot of people in this world I trust, especially now after all these years but Peggy, I trust her with everything that I am. She’ll do what’s right.”

“And Erik?” Charles asks, and Steve can feel his hand flex and tighten around his own. “He won’t just let it go. He’ll want revenge. He won’t...he’ll fight you, Steve, a man he admires. Even if you saved his life.”

He doesn’t say any more, but Steve knows what Charles is trying to tell him with his warning.

 _Erik fought_ me _, and he loved me; wanted me by his side. He won’t listen to you. I hope he listens to you. Maybe you’re the only one he’ll listen to._

_Don’t hurt him. Don’t let him hurt you._

“I’m not going to fight him, not if I can help it,” he swears, and Charles’ relieved smile makes his next words a promise he wants more than anything to keep. “I just want to help him.”

\-----

Twenty seven hours later, he stands in the burning wreckage of the research facility, twisted metal and smoldering ashes strewn all around him.

In front of him stands the man he recognizes from his file – and from Charles’ memories – clad in a helmet and purple cape, steel pipes floating in the air beside him, poised to strike.

“Captain Rogers,” he says, tone harsh and defiant. “Are you here to arrest me?”

Steve thinks about Charles, and the way he talks about Erik with such fondness, mired in hurt and regret. About the man’s anger and violent tendencies, rooted in his fierce determination to save others like him. And he thinks about Bucky, and what he wouldn’t give to have him back, for even the briefest of moments...

“No, Erik Lehnsherr," he answers, as he slowly swings his shield over his shoulder and onto his back, clearly broadcasting his intent. "I’ve come to take you home.”

 


End file.
